Page 10 of Sofa King Wanted

“Of course not.” He steps inside, grabbing the chair and rolling it back over to the desk that’s now really close to mine.

“Make yourself at home,” I say and stare at what he’s done.

“Was planning on it.” He sits down in the chair behind the desk, getting comfortable.

“Fine, but so we're both clear, I'm the boss,” I remind him.

“Got it.” He winks at me, and I don’t like the way it makes something in my stomach flutter to life. “Now about the files.”

“Why don't you have the files from the state?”

“I do.”

“Then why do you need mine?”

“You were the first on the scene.”

“And it was gross.” I shiver. It was disgusting, and I think I might have seen brain matter too. I had to start eating my burgers well done. “I hate the sight of blood. Real blood.”

“As opposed to fake blood.”

“Obviously. I love horror movies, and those have lots of blood.”

“So the files?”

“Classified.”

He barks a laugh but quickly muffles it. “They’re not classified.”

“They are.” I reach into my desk, grab the file, and hold it up. “See?”

“You wrote that on there with a red marker.”

Yeah, because we live in a country town and Amazon couldn’t overnight the classified stamp. That’s not my fault.

“You have no proof of that.” I bang it down on my desk, making it shake. The red marker rolls off my desk and hits Neil’s shoe. “That’s a coincidence.”

“A cop knows there’s no such thing as a coincidence.”

“You’re not a cop,” I remind him. I totally thought an FBI agent would fall into the category, but Google told me I was wrong.

“You’re right,” he admits.

“I know,” I chirp, not hiding my smugness. He shakes his head, and I swear he might be fighting a smile.

“I’m an FBI agent. We have a different set of skills.”

“Like what?” I lean forward, wanting to hear this because I could pick up some tricks.

“We’re taught a lot about body language. How to know when someone is lying.” I sit up straighter. “Breathe, Georgia.”

I hadn’t realized I’d stopped, so I take a breath. Maybe if I don’t move, he won’t see my lies. Neil comes over to my desk and picks up the file. He opens it, and I watch his eyes do a quick scan before they come to me.

“I can explain,” I blurt out. “Just stop grilling me!” I jump up from my desk so quickly my chair goes flying back. “And stop reading my body.”

He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk as he looks me up and down. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

Chapter Six

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